Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Liz still couldn’t quite believe what she had witnessed.
One minute she was skating along, wondering who the hell let Janice in with her damn pet raccoon, and the next the little furball was jumping out of his carrier and darting across the floor.
Before she was able to do anything about it, Dennis climbed his victim and set in motion what was possibly the slowest splits in the world.
Arms windmilling, the guy let out a screech that frightened off Dennis, and then the guy’s legs apparently decided to go on separate vacations.
One went one way while the other went the opposite way.
Somewhere during the whole slow-motion ordeal, she realized the guy flailing for his life was Carson.
A whole host of emotions filtered through her.
Satisfaction at seeing the uppity son of a bitch fighting for his life.
Humor at knowing it was a helpless raccoon taking him down.
Concern when he didn’t bounce right back up.
Because that was what she expected. Him to climb right back to his feet and shake it off like nothing happened. That was what he did, after all—pretend like nothing happened while things were going up in flames.
What she hadn’t expected was for him to stay down. Or how pale he was when she finally skated to a stop beside him and dropped to her knees. Or how shaky he was when they got him back on his feet.
What didn’t surprise her, however, was how quickly he shooed everyone away. How he was still giving her the evil eye.
Well, at least that meant he probably didn’t have a head injury. Although all things considered, maybe a head injury would improve his personality.
While part of Liz felt horrible for that thought, the larger part of her felt justified. After all, he did deserve it. A different personality, that was. Not a head injury. No one deserved that.
Liz pushed away from the rink wall, trying to shake Carson out of her head yet again.
“Is that guy okay?” Emily asked, catching up to her aunt and keeping pace with her while craning her neck to stare at the side of the rink. “What the heck happened?”
“Dennis.”
“Ooooooh.”
It really said something that the whole scenario could be explained by one name.
“I thought he was banned.”
“Yeah, well, if he wasn’t before, he probably is now.” Although Janice was nothing if not sneaky. They’d probably have to start putting up Most Wanted posters around town.
“Can’t say I totally blame Dennis, though,” Emily continued, her focus on where Carson sat as they made a lazy circle around the rink. “I wouldn’t mind climbing him.”
“Em!” Liz didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified.
On the one hand, her niece was too young to know about things like that.
On the other, she kind of understood. Carson was still hot.
In an evil kind of way. In the process of helping him up, she may have accidentally groped his ass. Totally unintentionally.
It may or may not have been better than she remembered.
“Did I hear correctly?” Liz’s brother skated up beside her, taking up residence on her other side. “Did Carson get taken out by Dennis?”
“Oh, my God!” Emily shouted, barely avoiding a father who was teaching his toddler how to skate. “That’s Carson?”
Liz made a beeline for the wall of the rink. She swatted Emily when she stopped next to her and punched her brother’s arm when he stopped alongside them.
Trent rubbed his bicep. “What was that for?”
“For saying his name out loud.”
“What was my swat for?” Emily asked.
“For saying you wanted to climb him.”
“What?” The vein in Trent’s forehead popped out. “You’re too young for that.”
“For that? Or to know about it?” Liz bit her lip to keep a straight face. Honestly, it was too easy sometimes.
Did she feel bad for throwing her niece under the bus like that? Yes.
Would she do it again? Absolutely.
The more she got Trent worked up about Emily and what she was and was not old enough for, the less her family would ask her about Carson.
She’d figure out a way to make things right with Emily.
Eventually.
By the time the following morning rolled around, Liz came to several conclusions.
One—getting old was a bitch. Muscles she didn’t remember having were grumbling their displeasure after last night’s skate.
Two—Carson was only able to hold as much power over her as she let him.
Was he a colossal shit weasel? Absolutely.
Did she have to let it bother her? No, she did not.
And three—if she didn’t get a move on, she was going to be late for her meeting.
Thank God it was close. Pulling into the parking lot of the Misty Meadow Inn, she gathered her Kate Spade tote bag and hauled ass inside. “Morning!” She waved at Clem behind the check-in counter as she scurried through the lobby.
“Oh, hello, dear!” Clem’s eyes darted to the staircase before returning to Liz. “How are you? Business going well?”
“Close to being late for our meeting, and yes, business is going very well,” she tossed over her shoulder.
“Chat later?” She loved Clem. Loved her for bringing Maya into her circle, loved her for restoring this inn and opening it up to community events like these meetings, and loved her for being a good human all around.
Plus, she knew all the best gossip. But that gossip would have to wait. Because she had business to attend to.
Downtown Improvement Committee business, to be exact.
As she entered the dining area, Liz was relieved to see that she wasn’t the last one to arrive.
Grabbing a cup of coffee from the side table, she slid into one of the empty chairs between Bea and Davis.
Larissa sat across from her at their usual table in the far corner of the room.
While they sometimes shared the large space with paying patrons of the inn, so far this morning, they had the place to themselves.
Liz raised her coffee in greeting. “Morning, all. How’s it going?”
“Great!” Bea beamed, her face a picture of radiance. The owner of Bea’s Balms & Beautifications was her own best advertisement. No wrinkles, smooth skin. The woman practically oozed beauty. “Davis was filling us in on his new job, and I, for one, could not be happier.”
“You’re not the only one,” Davis said, raising his finger for emphasis.
Larissa shook her head, the beads at the end of her braids clacking with the motion.
“You’re gonna have your work cut out for you, that’s for sure.
” Coming from her, that was saying something.
Not only did she own her own bakery, Baked by Larissa, but she also taught at the community college in addition to serving on several other committees.
Liz didn’t know where she found the time to get it all done.
“Congrats. But, what is your new job?” Liz racked her brain, trying to recall if Maya ever told them what it was. If she had, she sure didn’t remember.
“Business revitalization manager. It’s a new position the council created to try to get the town some more funding. Writing grants, courting businesses, that kind of thing.”
“Ooh.” Liz nodded her approval. “I like it. Help us get back on our feet.” Cloverfield had always been a small town, and with that came its challenges.
Those challenges hit an all-time high a couple of years ago when their former mayor was found skimming from the town coffers to fund his bedazzling addiction.
“That’s the goal,” Davis responded.
“Well, it can only go up from here,” Bea said.
Larissa tsked. “What’s the matter with you? You know you shouldn’t say things like that out loud.”
“Shouldn’t say what out loud?” Abram, the last member of their committee and owner of the Cloverfield Commons, boomed as he sauntered to the coffee table.
“That the town can’t get worse,” Larissa said.
“That’s not what I said,” Bea argued. “I said things can only get better.”
“Potato, po-tah-to,” Larissa replied.
“Oh.” Abram poured himself a coffee and looked pointedly at Liz. “I thought it was a certain someone’s name we weren’t supposed to say.”
“Who?” Larissa asked.
“Oh, right.” Bea nodded gravely. “Has anyone heard how he is?”
“How who is?” Davis asked.
“Nobody,” Liz answered, shooting Bea a beseeching look. “Don’t we have a meeting to start?”
“In a minute,” Bea said. “Frankly, we’d be remiss as a committee not to talk about it.”
“How do you figure?” Liz asked.
“Based on the fact that this will be the hot topic of the day, and I would be neglecting my duties as a responsible shop keeper if I didn’t have all the factual talking points,” Bea replied.
“Bullshit,” Liz coughed.
Bea raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “Would you rather I have non-factual talking points about what happened between you and Carson last night?”
Abe leaned forward. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing!” Liz cleared her throat and counted to three, making sure her next words sounded a lot less defensive and a lot more like it could have happened to anyone.
“Nothing happened last night. He was terrorized by Dennis, and I helped pick him back up. With several other people, I’ll have you know. ”
“There was also the food truck incident,” Bea said.
For fuck’s sake. She knew talking to him would get her in trouble. Taking a deep breath, Liz said, “There was no food truck incident.”
“Could’ve fooled Fred,” Abram muttered.
“Fred needs to mind his own business.” As soon as she said it, Liz knew the futility of her statement.
Larissa snorted. “Have you met Fred?”
Liz gathered her irritation and stuffed it into a corner to deal with later.
“Fine. Carson and I ran into each other last night. At the food trucks. Accidentally. We talked briefly. There is no drama, and he’ll be out of Cloverfield in a few days.
” God willing. “Now, can we please get this meeting started?” Before she resorted to banging her head on the table?
Bea gave Liz one final narrow-eyed stare before acquiescing and calling the meeting to order.